Finisterre or bust

As of yesterday morning, I am on my way to Finisterre. An additional 50 miles, upon completion, I will be able to say I walked across an entire country.

After a huge day coming in to Santiago, and two full rest days, yesterday was very difficult. While I only hiked 13 miles, I was incredibly sore and overly exhausted when I stopped for the evening.

After getting settled, I fell asleep for what would turn into a 3 hour nap. While I love naps, I never sleep for that long in the middle of the day. I clearly needed it. I also slept a full 8 hours last night.

This morning I awoke refreshed. On the route to Finisterre there are less villages and towns offering services. So the mileage is a little more sporadic. Yesterday prescribed 13 miles. Today was close to 20 miles. Tomorrow should be a 22 mile day.

Finisterre, where it was believed the world ended. I passed three young ladies today on the trail. I heard them well before I saw them. They were laughing and having a good time. They stopped for a break and I passed them. We exchanged pleasantries. I told them they were having entirely to good of a time, and didn’t they understand this was a pilgrimage? In jest of course.

One of them replied, “The pilgrimage was to Santiago, we are now walking to the beach to party.” They all three laughed.

True enough. The people I have passed the last two days have had a completely different air about them. Much more relaxed and assured, they are indeed on their way to have a good time.

22 miles to the Atlantic, and to where the sun dies at the end of each day. When I touch the Atlantic, my journey will be complete.

P.S. Spelling for Finisterre vary. Fisterra and Finisterre appear to be interchangeable.